


Spill It

by getpitchslapped



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2018-04-01 00:31:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3999094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/getpitchslapped/pseuds/getpitchslapped
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Requested continuation of this prompt: Chloe admits to Beca that Tom (shower boy) is just a distraction because she has a huge crush on someone (someone being Beca) but refuses to tell Beca who it is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spill It

“Unicycle.”

“No.”

“Luke.”

“Radio station manager Luke?”

“Yep.”

“No.”

It’s a Wednesday night. Chloe had unceremoniously let herself in to Beca’s dorm room—brandishing nail polish and magazines—declaring they needed to have a “girl’s night”. Protesting, when it comes to Chloe, is futile—Beca knows  _that_  from experience. So she had sighed resignedly and let Chloe paint her fingernails with a fresh coat of black (absolutely no amount of pouting would break Beca’s strong anti-pink philosophy) and a pinkie-swear that none would get on the carpet, lest Kimmy Jin look too closely. Somehow, Shower Tom had gotten brought up (it probably started with the not-so-discreet hickey on the left side of Chloe’s neck). To Beca’s surprise (and, maybe, just a little bit, chagrin) Chloe had admitted with averted eyes that Tom was, as she put it, a “distraction”. From whom, Chloe would not reveal.

“Bumper.” Beca paces the narrow space between the two beds, firing off guesses like a game show contestant. 

“ _God_ , no,” Chloe says, gagging audibly. She sits with her back resting against Beca’s bed, knees drawn up to her chest.

“Benji.” With every guess, Beca eyes Chloe carefully for any unconscious reactions.

“Who?”

“Nevermind.” Beca sighs and sinks down onto Kimmy Jin’s bed before immediately springing back up and smoothing out the blanket. “Is it a Treble?”

Chloe shakes her head, looking half-annoyed and half-amused at Beca’s rapid-fire. “No. Why do you care so much?”

“We’re having a girl’s night,” Beca says, frowning. “This is girl talk, no?” She takes Chloe’s face-palm as an indicator to continue. “Is it a High Note?”

“No.”

“BU Harmonic?”

“No.”

“Are they in a capella?” Chloe merely nods, finding interest in a loose thread on the carpet. Beca stops her pacing. “Bella?”

A beat of silence passes. The only indication that Chloe even heard her question is the slight flush that creeps up her neck. “Nevermind,” Beca says, sitting down and holding out her hands to Chloe. “Are you gonna finish my nails or what?” Chloe stares at her for a long moment with an unreadable expression on her face, before nodding once and unscrewing the top of the nail polish bottle. Beca watches as her careful hands lay even strokes of the paint, never once getting any on the skin around her nails.

“You’re good at that,” she says, her words seeming to echo in the wake of the intensified silence. Chloe snorts looks up at her, one eye squinted.

“It’s a girl thing. You wouldn’t understand,” she says teasingly, her brow relaxing noticeably.

“Your words hurt, Beale,” Beca says, trying to look offended. Chloe rolls her eyes and lifts one of Beca’s hands to her mouth and Beca fights the urge to pull back, her muscles tensing. Chloe glances at her briefly before blowing on her nails, her cool breath sending a shiver down Beca’s spine. They sit there in silence for a moment, Chloe still looking down at Beca’s hands and Beca staring at Chloe. 

“I—” Chloe starts, her voice cracking. She clears her throat and says, “I brought this over.” She drops Beca’s hand and turns to reach for her bag at the foot of Beca’s bed, her shirt riding up with the movement, revealing tanned skin and taut muscles, drawing Beca’s eyes like a magnet. When she turns back around, she averts her eyes in that quick, abrupt, what-I-wasn’t-staring way. If Chloe notices, she doesn’t acknowledge it.

Beca looks at the DVD case in Chloe’s hand and groans. “A movie?”

“Nope,” Chloe says, tapping the front cover. “TV show. The Big Bang Theory. I think you’ll like it.”

Beca can’t help the goofy smile that stretches across her face. Chloe raises her eyebrows and smirks. “What?”

“You remembered that I don’t like movies,” Beca says simply, grabbing her laptop from her bed and pulling it onto her lap.

“Yeah, so?” Chloe’s expression is a mixture of amusement and confusion.

“I…” Beca suddenly feels shy, not sure how to put her thoughts into words. “I don’t know. Jesse always makes me watch movies with him.” She shrugs.

“Then why do you hang around with him?” Chloe asks, swiping the computer off of Beca’s lap and inserting the disc. 

“He’s not all bad,” Beca says, stealing the laptop back. “And he keeps my mind off of—” She stops, eyes widening, face reddening. 

“Off of what?” Chloe says slowly. Beca can feel her eyes on her.

“Nothing, nevermind.” She pulls up the DVD menu. “Are we gonna watch this or what?”

“Uh-uh, you’re not getting off that easy,” Chloe says, shutting the laptop and poking Beca repeatedly in the arm. “Off of what?”

“Cut it out,” Beca says, batting at Chloe’s hand. “It’s nothing.”

“Is it a what? Or is it a  _who_?” Her blue eyes glint mischevously.

“Whom,” Beca halfheartedly corrects, bracing herself for an onslaught of questions. Chloe taps a finger on her lower lip, pretending to think.

“Well, it’s not Jesse,” she says. “Luke?”

Beca sighs. “No.”

“Is he in a capella?” Chloe asks, and Beca wants to kick herself. She stays silent. “Is it a Treble?”

“Hell no. I value my vocal cords,” Beca says, holding up her right hand.

“High Note.”

“No.”

“BU Harmonic.”

“Is anyone in that group even straight?” Beca puts her hands over her face preemptively. She  _knows_  Chloe is smirking at her right now. 

“Bella.” A pause. A wicked grin spreads on Chloe’s face. “Aubrey.”

“Wha—no! No, no, oh,  _God_ , no,” Beca sputters, forgetting her flushed face. 

Chloe bursts out laughing. “I’m sorry. I had to. Your face was  _priceless_.”

“Hmph,” is all Beca says, crossing her arms. 

“Cynthia Rose,” Chloe guesses, looking all-too pleased with herself.

“No.”

“Stacie.”

“Enough!" 

Chloe looks at her for a long moment, biting her lip. "I’ll tell you if you tell me.”

Beca feels her stomach drop, and shifts uncomfortably. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” Chloe still wears that frustrating smile, looking like she could break into laughter at any moment.

“I… Can’t tell you why not,” Beca says, looking away. Suddenly, she feels a hand clamp tightly around her wrist. She turns to see Chloe looking at her predatorily.

“I will paint your nails pink,” she says in an eerily calm, even voice. Beca tugs desperately against Chloe’s grip.

“I’m pretty sure this is illegal,” she says, trying to keep the shrillness out of her voice. “Or at least very, very frowned upon.” Chloe reaches behind her, pulls her big bag o’ nail polish, and fishes out a very glittery, very pink bottle. She holds it up menacingly, smiling when Beca’s eyes widen in alarm.

“No!” Beca shrieks, yanking her arm hard, sending herself, Chloe, and the nail polish flying, upending her laptop in the process. They land in a heap, Chloe half on top of Beca, hand still locked around her wrist. It’s then that Beca notices just how close Chloe’s face is to hers.

“Is this your way of telling me you want me on top of you?” Chloe asks, still wearing that infuriating smile. Beca can’t help the furious blush that spreads from her chest to her cheeks. Chloe leaps up suddenly, pointing a finger at Beca.

“HA!” she shouts, punctuating her words with a jabbing motion. Beca rubs at her wrist absentmindedly. “I knew it! You like me!” Although seemingly impossible, Beca flushes even brighter, her mouth opening but no sound coming out. She presses the heels of her hands into her eyes, so at least she won’t have to look at Chloe’ self-satisfied grin. After a few moments of Chloe poking her relentlessly in the side chanting “Beca likes me! Beca liiiiiikes me!” she peeks one eye out.

“What about your end of the deal, ma'am?” Chloe just looks at her. “You know, the part where you tell me who  _you_  like?” She frowns. “Jesus, we sound like seventh-graders.”

“Oh, right.” Chloe turns and digs in her bag for her phone. “Here, I’ll show you a picture of her.” Beca’s stomach drops and she’s pretty sure she might puke until Chloe holds the phone in front of her face. It’s a picture of Beca, curled up on a bus seat, asleep, hair disheveled and mouth hanging open unattractively.

“When the hell did you take that?!” Beca makes a grab for the phone, but she’s wearing the same dopey expression as Chloe. Chloe dodges her, trying to hold the phone out of Beca’s reach as she lunges at her again. Suddenly, her hand falls in something wet. She glances down to see her hand in a growing pink puddle surrounding the cracked nail polish bottle.

“Oh,  _shit_.”


End file.
